


Two Ghosts

by fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers/pseuds/fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers
Summary: Jack fell apart and Kent made the NHL. Eight years later, Jack made the NHL and Kent fell apart.





	Two Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> the update broke me

“Ha…Ha…Ha!”

_Clank!_  


Kent’s fingers slipped and he lost his grip on the phone and it fell onto the bar counter. Kent heard part of Carl’s comment about how Kent was shocked. He didn’t respond. 

Kent swallowed and Swoops looked over to him and Kent knew his face was giving away too much. He had spent his time hiding, hiding or existing in plane sight. Tomorrow he expected questions from the press,the fans and the world. Did he know? Was he also? Were they ever? 

Kent scoffs.

“Next round’s on me.” He says to the guys and smiles wide. 

He wasn’t about to let Jack Zimmerman ruin his night. Not another one. 

Swoops looked concerned but didn’t say anything. Kent thanked his stars for that. What a shame it would be if Kent couldn’t spend another night drinking to forget something Jack did.

The first time was when Jack and him were only 17 and Jack had giggled “I love you” into his ear sending Kent into a panicked frenzy, the last time had been after Kent was kicked out of Jack’s bedroom at a frat party and also his life.

Kent downed his drink and then another for good measure. He tried to focus on tangible things to not let his mind wander into the memories that had become dangerous nightmares. The lights of the club were louder, the music deafening and he couldn’t make out any words that were being said by his teammates. He ordered another drink. 

Across the bar he watched a couple on the dance floor, both girls, both wearing Zimmerman jerseys, both drinking and dancing the night away. They snuck in a kiss. Drunk people usually got into fights after his games. Did Jack have to upend everything about hockey culture in one night? Kent’s thoughts were straying again, he needed something to help him forget, he needed a buzz again. 

Kent’s heart wouldn’t stop beating and with each moment he wondered whether being here was worth it at all.

_“Boys, you’ll never forget the feeling. That moment when you look out onto the ice and you see your team smiling, everybody laughing and the glee on the faces of the crowd, oh god, everything just will feel right. Always hold onto that feeling.” Bad Bob’s words rung clear as day in Kent’s mind. At the time, Jack and him had just been satisfied with the fantasy of winning a cup but when they were alone, Jack had said,”We’ll do it together.”_

_“Yeah, we’ll definitely win.”_

_“No, I mean we’ll win and hold the cup up together and I’ll kiss you. What do you say Kenny, us against the world?”_  
“Another, please.” Kent was drunk but he wasn’t going to let even a random stranger say that he wasn’t charming or polite or anything other than lovely. “Uh… man I think you’ve had enough, your teammates told me to cut you off. They left already. Do you want me to call you a cab?” 

Kent checked his watch. Two a.m. He had somehow missed his team leaving but whatever. He didn’t need them. He decided to leave the bar. As he was going out, a group of hockey fans spotted him and asked for selfies. He smiled, they were charmed and they invited him out.

Some random rap song blared, Kent was barfing in a random toilet but he still felt sober because his phone kept sending him notifications. The latest one was a missed call from Bob Zimmerman. Kent stumbled from the bathroom, found a waiter serving champagne and grabbed two.

 

Kent woke up to the stench of vomit mixed with disinfectant. His eyesight was still blurry but he made out the bare, too clean walls that could only be identified as a hospital. 

“Oh, Parser, thank god. You’re awake.” 

“Huh.” Kent says simply. 

“The doctor said you’re fine, just had a bit too much to drink last night yeah? It’s lucky someone saw you passed out on the street and called the hospital and not the cops. Don’t worry about management or anything okay? Trust me the press isn’t getting wind of this.” Swoops was rambling a little. Kent knew he did that when he was nervous. Kent supposed he should be grateful to whatever brave fool didn’t let him die peacefully in some unmarked alley.

That’d be a fitting way to go. It’s be cowardly and it’d be a candle instead of a firework but yesterday and the eight years before that had proven he couldn’t be brave. He couldn’t even tell people not to say something homophobic on his own team. He had learned how to be quiet, how to shove aside his truth and he had excelled at thriving in a place that hated yet adored him.

His thoughts were broken again by Swoops. “About last night… I’m sorry, I knew you were upset and I should’ve stayed. I don’t know what happened between you and Zimmerman and I don’t want to know but seeing you here, broken, I want things to be better for you, alright? Parse, you’re an enigma. You’re a great person and player and I’m going to support you no matter what.” 

“Can you drive me home?” 

Swoops smiled, “Of course, Captain.” 

Kent smiled too. 

On the drive home, Swoops asked him if he remembered anything from last night.  
Kent remembered amber taking over his taste buds. Or was he drinking with Amber. Then there was loud music, a throbbing headache and vodka as a cure to the headache. 

“Not much, no.”

He did remember though, not last night but a similar one 8 years ago. He’s the one who called 911. He’s the one who had to tell Bob Zimmerman that his son was lying lifeless on the cold bathroom tiles and no he didn’t know how many pills he’d taken and yes he’d called an ambulance and of course he’d stay with Jack until they got to the hospital.

He remembered crying and tugging at Jack’s sleeve and shaking him roughly, hoping, praying, pleading for Jack to wake up. For Kent to hear his laugh again. For Jack to hold his hand, for anything other than no response. The 7 minutes that the ambulance took to reach the house had at the time seemed to be the longest of Kent’s life but the hours in the waiting room beat that. Both records got destroyed the day after that draft, where Kent got everything.

Everything but what he wanted the most.

He remembered in explicit detail what the pressure of hockey had turned Jack into, what the promise of being the next great thing with the guilt of being gay had lead to. Yesterday though, Jack was everything but scared and Kent hoped that somewhere in an alternate universe, he was there next to him.


End file.
